


On Days Like This (I Forget That I Hate You)

by Missy



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Alaska, Autograph Signings, Card Games, Cunnilingus, F/F, Getting Back Together, Humor, Road Trips, Strip Poker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:40:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27658957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missy/pseuds/Missy
Summary: Becky and Charlotte get stuck in a snowbound podunk town for an autograph session, leading them to take a second look at their relationship.
Relationships: Charlotte/Becky Lynch | Rebecca Knox
Comments: 4
Kudos: 10
Collections: Mistletoe Exchange 2020





	On Days Like This (I Forget That I Hate You)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sweetcarolanne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetcarolanne/gifts).



“Alaska. They fucking sent me to ALASKA!” 

Becky looked up from her menu as Charlotte stomped into the room. Charlotte was wearing a fake fur coat and ridiculously expensive-looking boots, her eyes darting around the room over the top of her white rimmed sunglasses. One big blue bag rocked in her polished grip, and she dragged another through the large wooden front door. Becky's own jeans and leather jacket looked rather less impressive via comparison, but her clothing didn't have to wrestle Charlotte.

“I know. I can see you,” Becky said, her tone light, drawing a glare from Charlotte.

They were standing in the middle of what was two steps above a shack. There was a stuffed moose head hanging over Becky’s shoulder, and she was fairly sure that the fixtures were from the 1800s and had not been dusted once since they were installed there. Becky was also fairly certain that they were both probably going to die of tetanus before they killed each other, so she watched her friend and rival saunter over.

“They want me to sign autographs here. With you?” Charlotte asked.

“With me, in the card shop halfway across town,” Becky said. 

“This place has more polar bears than there are people! Has McMahon finally lost his mind?”

“Finally?” Becky asked, a thousand different instances of his uncouth behavior dancing through her mind. 

“I’m trying to be generous. He signs my checks.” She sat down a couple of inches from Becky on the oversized, floral-printed sofa. The last time they were in close contact, Becky was punching Charlotte in the face on her way to rolling up Ronda Rousey for a pin. They hadn’t talk-talked, not for a long time, and not without something rancorous getting in the way first to make things incredibly difficult.

“So did you bring the belt?” Charlotte asked.

Becky laughed. “It’s in the case, as always. I’m not gonna take it out and risk losing control of it. Not as if there’s a referee around to count your pin if you tried for it.”

“I’m not in business mode right now. I’m too busy trying to figure out how we ended up in Podunkville, USA.”

“It was a plane,” Becky said. “A plane took us here.”

Charlotte stared at Becky over the top of her sunglasses and a little tiny sunbeam of warmth went through Becky. She had other, nicer memories of Charlotte that stemmed back to their training days, to the times they hadn’t had fame or luck or the fans on their sides – just a ring in the middle of a gym and the painful process of learning how to take falls. 

Charlotte had always had it a little easier than Becky. That hadn’t mattered when they’d snuck clandestine kisses in the lowlit gyms and back roads during their callow and shared youth.

The memory lit up her whole heart for just a second. “I thought you stopped it with the pun crap when you became The Man.”

“I am one with my punage and always will be. It’s like you without your Gucci knockoffs.”

“This is genuine Gucci!” Charlotte insisted.

Becky just smiled and let her mind drift while they waited for their driver.

****

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Their driver never showed up. They had to walk their way through high snow drifts to get to the comic shop, and then there was another ten minutes to wait for their table to be set up. Becky could feel Charlotte’s eyes on her as they worked, smiling, shaking hands, kissing babies. Both of them working the face end of the routine when they had both so recently been heels. It was nice to see people be supportive – and it was nice to sit together without rancor.

They drank tea and tried to figure out how the shopkeeper kept that giant Darth Vader toy suspended from the ceiling over their heads.

“If I’m going to die,” Becky observed, “I don’t want it to be because Darth Vader decided to smash into my head.”

“He’s too smart to attack you directly. If he’s gonna do anything, it’s gonna be a sneak-up job.” Charlotte drank her fancy little coffee drink but she smiled. The rhinestones on her collar caught the light and dazzled, making Becky wish she’d brought her goggles with her from her ancient and gone-by steam punk days.

Becky thought to herself that Charlotte knew how to accessorize. Maybe she intended to impress her, on some weird level. But Becky couldn’t help herself around Charlotte, anyway.

****

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They staggered back to the hotel and were served a large loaf of crusty bread, cheese, and stew in their large dining room. There was no time to ask for salads or lean meat or hearty grains – they were starving, it was Alaska, and it wasn’t as if they had time to actually consider anything different. 

“You’ve got a little soup right…” Charlotte pointed at Becky’s chin, and she wiped it. 

“How did you manage to do that without smearing my lipstick?”

“Pure luck,” Charlotte said. “So, want to come upstairs?”

****

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“Strip poker?” Charlotte asked, when Becky sat down at the edge of the bed with a pack of cards.

“Do you have anything better to do with the rest of the night?” Becky asked. 

She shrugged, sat down, and got Becky down to her boy shorts before reluctantly losing her top.

It wasn’t a big surprise. Flairs could compete, and weren’t afraid to do so when the going got tough. 

When they were both naked, she reached over and kissed Charlotte’s lips. Ahh, the familiar territory. This was a dance they both knew. 

****

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The sex was competitive and grueling and a little rougher than either of them expected it to be. Charlotte was soaked with Becky’s release, her hair slick with it. Becky could taste Charlotte on her tongue, the back of her throat, heavy and sweet in turn. There were scratch marks on her flanks, and matching ones on Charlotte.

They were a sweaty heap of bones and limbs by the end of it, and one of them kicked the lamp over so they wouldn’t have to get out of bed – which of them Becky would never be able to recall, because she had been so well fucked.

“I missed you, Bec. Even when I was trying to kill you, I loved you,” Charlotte said. 

“Yeah,” Becky said. Her sentiments exactly.


End file.
